


let's steal another moment before dawn

by violentdarlings



Series: Entrapment Boning [6]
Category: Entrapment (1999)
Genre: Bondage, Catherine Zeta-Jones - Freeform, Entrapment, F/M, Orgasm Denial, Sean Connery - Freeform, Sean Connery's voice, Underloved Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentdarlings/pseuds/violentdarlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post movie, Gin and Mac have some sexy time sex. Because I was shouting 'shag already!' throughout the whole damn movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's steal another moment before dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I wrote for Entrapment, despite it being number 6 in the series. Jesus, number 6. Where will it end?

She trembles violently under his touch. “Mac,” she whimpers, craving the roughness of his fingers, the scrape of his stubble.

“Yes, dear girl?” he asks, voice the same smoky rumble it always is. As though the sight of her, spread and bound, nude as the day she was born - as though it doesn’t affect him at all. “You want something?”

“Fuck me,” she replies, straining against her bonds. “Please.” His laughter is low like the beginnings of an earthquake, like a brewing thunderstorm.

“Fuck you,” he repeats, and the word is a thousand times more erotic when coming from his mouth. “You should be more specific, Gin. Fuck you with what? My hand? My mouth?”

“Anything,” she replies, hips flinching upwards as one finger traces a pattern down her navel to tap lightly at her clit. “Whatever you want.”

“And if I want to sit here and watch you writhe and beg?”

“You asshole,” she retorts, and he likes that. He tips back his head and roars with laughter, and pinches her nipple hard in retaliation. “Ow!” But she likes it, and he knows it. They’ve had enough time to get to know each other by now.

“Foolish girl,” he admonishes, face and voice stern. “I ought to leave you here all night.” But his hand is kinder, thumb rubbing in quick circles while he slips a finger into where she’s wet and tight and so ready for him. “That’s a good girl,” he says now as she twists her head to the side, moaning without restraint, hips stuttering out a harsh rhythm against his hand. “You have no idea how beautiful you are like this,” he says conversationally, and she shudders. “Fucking yourself on my hand like you can’t get enough.” He is silent for a minute, the only noise skin on skin, and she can’t bear it, so close but not quiet but oh almost there.

“Don’t you dare stop fucking talking,” she commands, and he lifts a single eyebrow in droll amusement.

“Very well,” he says, and it’s enough. She comes hard enough to see stars, or at least flashes of light against the inky backdrop of her closed eyelids. She rides every crest and trough of sensation, until she’s arching into nothing more than faint, echoing aftershocks. His big hand is still between her legs but the other is unlocking the cuffs, lowering her hands to her sides, running fingertips through her sweaty hair.

“You are lovely,” he informs her, and because she’s who she is, she pretends that the blush on her cheeks is just post-orgasmic warmth.

“Whatever. Now shut up and let me return the favour.” He stiffens, for a moment tensing, and she can imagine what’s going through his head. Too old. Too weary. And in three, two, one -

“We do not have to,” he says, and he’s barely finished before she pushes him down to the bed.

“Don’t be an idiot, Mac,” she replies, loosening his belt. “You know I don’t do anything I don’t want to.” He watches her with steady eyes, and it’s neither consent nor a blessing, but it’s close enough, she’ll take it.

She unzips him and finds him with a hand, feeling his length and thickness and realising how close he is. How the sight of her undone affects him. Wordless, she helps him out of his trousers, throws them to the floor. His cock is flushed and full of blood, and his eyes dart from it to her and over again as she lies down beside him.

“We’ve done this before,” she reminds him, and he chokes out a ragged laugh.

“And every time we do it again, I wonder if this time will be the last. If you’ll come to your senses and decide you want more than an old man can offer you.” She decides not to deign that with a response, so she lowers her head and takes him deep, tongue dragging against the underside. He rasps a heavy, uneven breath and she works him harder, sweeter, keeping his eyes with hers the entire time.

He swells further in her mouth, his fingers twitching, and she takes one heavy, skilled hand and threads it through her hair. “I won’t break,” she promises, lifting her head for a moment, and maybe he believes her because a moment later his hand is a fist holding her hair and he’s thrusting up into her mouth.

“Gin, Gin,” he murmurs. “Dear girl, lovely one. I’m going to -”

The only response she gives is open her mouth and take him a little deeper, and it must be enough to convince him because a moment later he’s coming, salty bitterness flooding her throat as he shivers and jerks his way through his orgasm. “God,” he says to the ceiling as she releases him from her mouth and slides up to curve herself against his side.

“Not quite, but I’ll take it.”

“You’ll be the death of me,” he says fondly, but there is an edge to it.

“The handcuffs were your idea.” That’s not what he meant, and she knows it, but for now he lets it lie and she lets him let it lie. They’re in love, after all.

And she’s always known that love is lies.


End file.
